We returned home after 4 days of mandatory evacuation. Our house didn't flood, but over 100,000 homes in our area were affected. I felt guilty that I got to sleep in my own bed that night. But no one really wants to hear about my survivor's remorse.

Guilt

I know I need to stop the guilt stuff, but I got in the habit a year ago with my cancer. I felt guilty accepting help when others needed it more. I felt guilty last spring when I gathered at a celebration for Cancer SurvivorsDay. I dealt with such a minor battle compared to many.

I didn't really earn a cancer or hurricane survivor badge. But the initial fear that came with both announcements, was similar. Maybe I earned a badge for that. Mostly, I'm grateful that my cancer was treatable and thankful that water didn't reach the house.

​Volunteering

​Feeling guilty is a waste of time. So on Saturday, I headed to Sugar Land's baseball stadium to donate blood. I heard the hospitals were running low.

I was turned away because I wasn't 3 years cancer free. I no longer felt guilty. I felt mad. Mad to be in that stupid cancer club with rules that make me feel like my blood is flawed. Mad that I couldn't join the club of Givers that was lined up.

​Relaxing When Others Aren't​I started feeling guilty before we even knew our house was going to be safe. We were invited to evacuate to a safe home just miles from ours.

The sun came out by the second day and I was able to run... which helped with stress. The dry paths were lovely in the morning, but I could hardly enjoy, when I felt I should be helping others. Everything looked oddly normal, until I approached the closed grocery stores and restaurants. The sounds of rescue helicopters reminded me that all was not well.

How to Help?​The day we got home, I began fretting over how to help. I saw images on TV of boat rescues and flooded homes with neighbors pitching in. I wanted to jump in and be a part of the help. But how? I'm the person who doesn't do groups. This is when it pays to be a part of an organization that pulls together and helps others. So much for my independence.

I wasted lots of time on the internet and phone, trying to find areas of need that were reachable. Don learned that a friend in the flooded and neglected town of Wharton, was preparing a BBQ for over 400. We drove out and delivered some goods, but there was little else for us to do. The small group seemed to have everything under control. I was in awe, watching how smoothly they prepared for the crowds, around pots of beans and rice and the giant grill. This was a hardworking group, used to pulling together and helping one another. Cooking a pot of beans to feed 300 was no big deal. I took it in and vowed I would learn from what I saw.

Shelters and Centers

I felt disappointed the next day, that they didn't need my help when I showed up at an evacuation shelter in Richmond. I drove to a church shelter, but it had already closed. I don't know why it took me so long to realize I just needed to get back to being with the people in the centers, where I already volunteer. I had gone in circles for days, before returning to my senior groups and the kids at the Women's shelter. Everyone had been affected by the hurricane whether they had dealt with floods or not. ​Helping Each Other

It was a joy to hug some of my sweet seniors and hear their stories. We had all been worried about each other when the center was closed for 10 days. We shared and then we forgot about Harvey and distracted ourselves with fun. I left realizing they had helped me as much as I'd helped them.

Kids and More Seniors

My Alzheimer's group delighted me with their ability to live in the moment. No one was talking about hurricanes! Then I moved on, to the Women's Shelter where the moms were the happiest to see me. After almost 2 weeks of school closings, there was a fair amount of tension in the air. After games and songs, puppets and outside play I left the kids worn out... but not as worn out as me.

So, in the future I'll try to remind myself to keep this guilt thing from getting in the way. Sometimes my urge to race out there and do something "big" distracts me from caring about the people who are right near me.

Exactly a week ago, we woke to images on TV of the devastation in Houston. I couldn't imagine the horrors of escaping, in flood waters. I worried about the people I knew in those areas, 20 miles from our home in Sugar Land. But, I didn't worry about our house. Fort Bend County has had 3 major floods in 3 years and we've always been fine. ​A Week Ago, Sunday

On Sunday, wegrew more concerned as we learned about the Brazos River, which borders our neighborhood. Predictions of rising waters had us slightly on edge. Then, late Sunday night we got word of the mandatory evacuation and I suddenly realized how unprepared we were.

Luckily we had until the next day, but we began frantically working. I texted and phoned friends and neighbors for the next couple of hours, carrying the phone with me as I made endless trips up and down stairs... carrying what we could from the first floor to what we hoped would be the dry floor. At 2 am, we tried to sleep for a few hours, but it wasn't restful.

Monday Morning

In the morning we were up early, gathering important papers, valuables and food. We loaded both cars and felt lucky that we at least had the time to make decisions and communicate with others... who were in the same state of confusion.We quickly learned tips we'd never known, like leaving cabinet doors open and opening the yard gates to let pond water flow. The phones beeped with texts and I was grateful for that, remembering how I didn't even know how to text, when "Ike" hit in 2008.

Treasures

​I scolded myself a few times as I carried boxes of memorabilia, photo albums and antique treasures upstairs. In August 2016, I had promised myself I would take a serious look at the collections that fill my house. Why hadn't I scanned all those old photos, like I said I would?

This time last year, I had just begun chemo treatments and often pondered the obvious question. "What is really important?" I was more anchored to home then, with so much time to stare at the "stuff" surrounding me. I did spend some time in the late summer and fall, sorting, deciding, donating and discarding. Now it's clear, those efforts hardly made a dent.

On Monday, before we locked up, I took one last look and hoped "the stuff" would be safe. Surely my grandmother's bears, the Sicilian puppet and the Uncle Sam doll, would be safe upstairs. Downstairs the only thing I really worried about was the old Meyer family table. I was pretty sure if we flooded, our lame attempt to lift the pedestal on bricks would not keep water from the lion's mouths. I said good-bye to the house.

It felt odd that first night, to eat dinner in a nice home, 3 miles from our evacuated neighborhood. I allowed myself to imagine the river rising 59 feet and flooding all our homes. Oddly though, I felt calm. I thought back to those anxious hours of frantic decisions and stair climbing and it suddenly seemed like the biggest stress was over. "If we lose it all, that will be okay." (I may have been fooling myself) But maybe a year ago, I really did learn more about what's important. It seems so cliche, to claim your cancer taught you that. But this past year, I've begun to face the reality that our "treasures" and "keepsakes" can be a burden. I had 4 nights to stew over that, before we returned to our dry home.

We came home yesterday and I spent a fair amount of time planning how I could volunteer this week. Today, I have spent many hours making more decisions as I put things back in order... and box up the things, I now plan to part with.

We returned to Texas humidity after 1 week of blissfully cool weather in Michigan.

We headed to long term parking in a crowded shuttle with other weary travelers. I was dreaming of being back in Michigan with beaches, wineries and bikes, when I noticed the woman seated in front of me.

Chemo Curls?

I didn't take a photo, but I recognized those gray curls sprouting from that woman's head. Spotting her hair made me think of 2 things.

1- I'm so glad I went ahead and touched up my gray. She looked sad and tired. "Oh please tell me I don't look like that?"

​2- I realized I had not thought of cancer in a week!

I really don't go around thinking about cancer much, anymore. But usually there's a cancer commercial or a magazine ad that forces me to remember. My week away from TV, newspapers and internet had given me a break from those reminders.

Even the days spent with my brother and his wife had been free of cancer talk. I'm finally at a point where not everyone is asking how I feel, or commenting on my hair growth.

I hope that sad looking woman with gray curls, was just tired like me. Maybe those weren't chemo curls at all. And hopefully she was thinking of something nice, like the trip she'd just enjoyed.

I really don't like clothes shopping. Changing rooms are exhausting and price tags are scary. But this past weekend was different. I sat on a cozy couch, drinking champagne with 2 of my daughter's bridesmaids. Heidi did all the work. Oh, how I wish shopping could always be like this!

Less Than a Year Ago

I know, I said I would stop looking back all the time. But it's hard to avoid sometimes. Especially, since I have fond memories of last fall, when Heidi and I joined my future daughter-in-law on a dress shopping adventure! On that wonderful day, Heidi and I watched Chali do all the glamorous work. We didn't know then, that Heidi would soon be engaged and both girls would be planning weddings!

I remember feeling so happily distracted that day. I still wasn't finished with chemo but I felt energized with the fun. When I look at this photo, I sigh... then laugh. "Hmm, I might need to toss that wig back on, if my hair doesn't show some improvement!" Who knows what my hair will be doing in November or March. I might be the one who needs the veil!

The Focus

But luckily, the spotlight won't be on me. And this past Saturday, I couldn't have been happier, having the focus on Heidi with her friends. I love my role.

What fun to listen to the girls' banter... their comments and humor. I can't stop being grateful for the timing. I'm so glad that it's July 2017... not 2016!​Lucky Me!

I feel healthy and energized just knowing what's ahead! These 2 beautiful "brides" (and their handsome grooms) are making it hard for me to add to my Not Happy List!

We're in Breckenridge, Colorado now and I'm finally feeling normal... not winded and woozy from elevation. But that's the price you pay to see this beautiful world up here!

Hiking Again... in Oklahoma

This isn't the first time I've hiked, since my cancer surprise a year ago. Last October, Don and I spent a week in Lake Tahoe, during my window between chemo and radiation.

I remember what it felt like when I took my first light hike. I had to admit, it wasn't just elevation, then. "I guess I'm not as normal as I thought," I huffed. It bothered me to recognize that chemo was still affecting me, when I thought I was all "healed."

Last week, we started our drive west and detoured, for a hike in Oklahoma. Not exactly a challenging elevation, but it was over 8 miles and steep and rocky at times. It felt good to suddenly say, "Now, I'm myself again!"

June 18, 2016 & June 18, 2017

This morning, Don and I woke early and hiked on a trail outside of Breckenridge. The trail began with stone steps and we laughed at the rustic stair master.

It wasn't a huge climb, but the elevation of over 9,000 got my heart pumping. My legs began to burn and the dry air had me sniffling. It felt wonderful. On this day a year ago, I was in the hospital having a lumpectomy. No complaints today!

What's Ahead?

No reason to look back and compare, anymore. What's next? I don't know, but I kind of like the whimsical look of the balls (with people inside) floating on Maggie Pond, outside of our hotel. We'll see.

I'm growing weary of this lack of control. I've never dealt with curls and I'm at a loss. The gray wasn't bad when my hair was short, but now, I look like a sweet granny with my gray-funky-style!

What can I control?

I have no control over the curls, unless I want to chop them off. But, it took me 7 months to get this far. I decided to look into changing the one thing I can control... the color.

I got this dandy (and cheap) bottle of Fanci-Full, because it washes out. I've never dyed my hair at home, so I thought it would be fun to experiment.

It was fun and only a little messy.

But I couldn't see a change at all! I tried the next day with a more generous amount. Forget it.

Looking Forlorn

I look a little sad in this photo yesterday. I was really just snapping a "before" photo. I was excited to have Christina guide me with some options for color and to give me a tiny bit of a trim.

I couldn't have felt in better hands. Christina took all the time in the world to look at color samples with my skin and eyes. She knew my chemo hair might have issues with taking the color, but she gave me such support. I was ready to go.

Where'd my curls go?

Here I am with a different look. I'm sure I won't have the patience to blow out all those curls like Christina did, but at least I know it can be done now. My gray is gone for now. I wish I'd felt content enough to keep it, but I was so ready for a change. I'm going to enjoy this for a while.

I hated finals as a student, but I was always happy after the last one was finished. Today I had my final exam with my radiation doctor and I was eager to get it behind me. It was my 6 month follow up after radiation ended. I was sort of surprised when I was told no follow up appointment was needed.I was done. That was a nice and odd feeling.

I checked out and asked the nurse if she knew of a good place to donate cancer related books and magazines. I wanted to share some of the things that had been helpful to me. She showed me their basket and I filled it.

At the last moment I decided to add the little bear to the basket. The stuffed Care Bear had been a gift and I had planned on passing it along at some point. Suddenly this seemed like the perfect place. When I tucked the bear in next to the books, I heard a voice behind me. I turned saw this dear woman smiling and pointing at the bear. "Would you like it?" I asked. She grinned and nodded.

I wasn't sure how well the woman understood English, but I tried to explain that I wanted her to have the gift that I had received. She couldn't thank me enough. I told her I would share the photo with Bonnie, who sent the bear to me. And I did.

I didn't know there was such a day, but today is it. I don't love that survivor term, so I don't have much desire to celebrate it. But my friend, Terri enlightened me. We met up for an event on Friday.

Healing Through Art

Friday morning Terri texted, "Want to check this out?" I thought she was kidding, since we both share the same reluctance about flaunting our Cancer Survivor status.

But I looked again and liked the theme of the event. Terri's an artist and we both have our own programs that help others through the arts. Why not?

Meeting at the Hosptial

A few hours later, Terri greeted me in the hospital lobby with a hug. I was tempted to "skip school" and drag her off to have a 3 hour lunch instead. But we bravely moved towards the exuberant staff, dressed in pink. A few giggled and did can-can kicks as we walked by. We were handed name tags and given free goodie bags, before moving into the conference room.

We slapped on our name tags and Terri turned to greet me, with only a hint of smile. "Hi, my name is Survivor." We sat at a round table and introduced ourselves to 2 others, before using our gift pens to write our real names.

Getting Serious

The tables filled as a slideshow of photos and affirmations, played on 2 screens. Below one of the screens, a young man played some "welcoming music" on a keyboard. It sounded like we were gearing up for a church service. A while later, the young man's smooth voice began to sing, a hymn like piece, about Jesus guiding us with our disease... or something of that sort. Suddenly, I really felt like I was in church and I was 13, trying to keep from looking at my friend, to avoid giggles. This is serious. I reminded myself.

I sobered myself by studying the table decoration. A paint can with flowers and paint brushes. That was cute.

Speakers, Food and Lots of Celebration

A number of different people spoke, encouraging cheers and applause for cancer survival. Special guest, Miss Houston 2015, painted a tree with leaves and "ribbons", as music played.

At one point, the Cancer Survivors were asked to stand. I wish I could have whooped and fist bumped Terri, but I was feeling like a moody teen. I didn't roll my eyes like a teen, but I did eye the standing group of about 30. And I pondered.

Was this emotionally hard for some? Embarrassing? No one looked ill or new to cancer. Where were the people with chemo curls, like mine? Am I not really a survivor yet? It's only been a year since diagnosis. But we were told, you are a survivor the day you're diagnosed. Whatever. This survivor label is odd and I don't quite want to be in this club.

Art?

As we moved into our second hour, I hoped to hear more about healing through art restoration therapy. I'm no longer so focused on my own healing, but would love to help others. Terri and I have both been open to this and had hoped to leave with some ideas. Instead, we left with Cancer Coloring Books. I'm afraid that didn't thrill me. ​Maybe this is just bad timing, but it's now been a year since my world began revolving around cancer. Unless I'm helping others, I'm ready to not think about it! Coloring the words Cancer and Hope doesn't sound healing or appealing to me.

Am I a Cancer Snob? I sound like it. But really, I'm just uncomfortable. The term survivor sounds like I've fought a huge battle and survived. My battle was small compared to most. Yes, I'm worthy to be in the club with those who fought harder than me. But the survivor group is a huge one that I'm supposed to feel bonded with. I've always had a hard time cheering with a group of people I don't know well. Whether it's in a church or a concert arena, I feel silly throwing my hands up along with the crowds. I just don't know if I'm comfortable in this Club of Survivors.

Just Us

After the 2-hour program we were invited to take Survivor photos with the frame. They also wanted a group photo of all the survivors. Terri and I were close to sneaking out the door. It felt like we were the bad Girl Scouts... too cool for school. But we headed over and stood up tall and smiled through the big white frame. I'm glad to have a picture of me with my buddy, who paved the way in this breast cancer thing. We clicked years ago, before cancer. We connected through art programs and now we connect even more because of our common experience.

Before rushing out, Terri and I did join in with the group photo. We left, chuckling and shaking our heads. Our meet up with other Cancer Survivors shouldn't have been a hard thing to process. But we both drove home through rain, feeling a little confused. I got a text later saying, "I think we're just closet survivors." I think we are. I'm not sure how much of my reluctance is with the word survivor and how much is about being labeled anything at all. But we're planning to work on this together. We'll see if these Closet Survivors come out.

Like most women, I don't enjoy the annual visit. Today I felt an extra dose of dread as I drove to the imaging clinic. This is the office I will always associate with my diagnosis. Last May I came here 3 times and those anxious days are shared in my first posts.

Yesterday, I got back on the horse with another appointment. I had my annual Well Woman exam, with my nurse practitioner. I felt slightly anxious as I entered the waiting room, remembering last May, when Janine shared concern about a lump. That was the beginning... my bump in the road. But yesterday, Janine greeted me with a huge smile and hug. It felt like my appointment was more about a celebration than a required exam.

Today

I dreaded my mammogram today, but I was eager for it to be over. I expected to leave knowing that everything was good... or everything wasn't good. My appointment a year ago had included an ultrasound, which meant I got results that day. Today, I was told it would be over a week to get my report and if there were concerns, I'd be called back. What!

Even though I've been feeling 99% sure that I'm fine, I suddenly felt that ache of worry, like I felt at my appointment on May 23, 2016. That was the day, I was told I needed to come back for a biopsy. I remember feeling a wave of gloom, as if I already knew the outcome. I asked the nurse last year, "How long for results? Do I cancel my 2 week trip to Colorado." Today, I saw the same nurse and once again asked, "How long till I find out results? I'm leaving town." I explained that I was going on the same Colorado trip that we had canceled last year. She understood my stress and smiled with a look that told me she wasn't worried. "I've been doing this a long time." She assured me that she had no concerns. I'm pretty sure she wasn't supposed to tell me that.​​Oh my. Waiting again, but it's different this time. I'm pretty sure we're going to Colorado!

When I was a child, I loved the month of May. It was full of May Day baskets, Mother's Day crafts and end of school happenings.

When Don and I were younger parents, the calendar always seemed extra packed. This May we were busy, once again. This past week flew by, with Scott's graduation in New Orleans. The ceremony on Saturday was surrounded by days of uniting, exploring, dining, drinking, walking, hugging, sharing, toasting and cheering!

This has been a perfect May. Last year... not so much.

A Year Earlier

It was fun being at Tulane this year, remembering last May when our nephew graduated. I remember snapping this photo of Scott and Andy, hugging. The cousins may have grown up in different states, but they ended up being law students together.

I also remember how I loved the happy graduation distraction. The festive gatherings halted my fretting, over the recent discovery of a lump. Luckily my mammogram came a week later, so I celebrated without real knowledge. My cancer diagnosis came at the end of May.

No Time for Worries This Year

It was a thrill to celebrate this year, without hidden concerns. I did however, have a couple of not so hidden concerns, about my silly appearance. My crazy hair went crazier in New Orleans and I woke with a left eye that looked like I'd been punched. It was no treat greeting family I hadn't seen in a year, with my frightful image.​But luckily this wasn't about me, it was about Scott. And I was too busy feeling proud and enjoying family, (and food) to be bothered.

​At Graduation

When Scott walked across the stage to accept his diploma, I felt butterflies. My own cheering and clapping and camera fumbling kept me from experiencing the stronger emotions that came later. My fumbling also meant, I didn't capture a solid picture of Scott hugging The Dean...

Too Busy to Process

We were able to enjoy numerous celebrations with our combined families. There were toasts and shared stories. It seemed perfect and I was bursting with pride over Scott's accomplishments. But there was little time to share my thoughts with Scott, alone. In fact my "parental processing" pretty much waited until I got back to Texas.

Time to Reflect

So I returned home and had time to think about the past few days, as well as past decades. I took more time to study this photo, which I'd shared over the weekend in Nola. Everyone had been amused to see 4-year old Scott in the photo, showing interest in the law so many years ago! (Or banging on things, at least.) Scott said he remembered the moment, when his uncle encouraged him to pound that gavel! I love the way my brother is smiling at Scott in this photo. He has smiled and encouraged Scott in many ways over the years.

My brother's smile was even bigger on Saturday, when he greeted Scott on stage. He was The Dean, when he handed Scott the diploma, but he was Uncle when he offered a hug.

May in 1990

This May has been full. Mother's Day flew by, with calls from the kids and special gifts that I'm only now stopping to appreciate. Now, I'm taking time to think about my own mom and how I wish she were here. I opened up a journal from 1990 and recalled a special Mother's Day with Mom and my kids. This is the only photo I have of the busy day. Don had sent flowers, because I had gone to Ann Arbor, Michigan for a graduation.

I wish I had photos of the ceremony, later that day at Hill Auditorium. At least my written words help me recall... How 9-month-old Scott sat on my lap and 3-year-old Heidi squealed and shook her stuffed bunny. "Cheer for Uncle Dave!" I encouraged, as my brother crossed the stage to accept his diploma. The words in my journal remind me that I looked over at Mom and wondered how she felt, as she watched her youngest son graduate from law school.

On Saturday, I understood how proud my mom felt on that Mother's Day, 27 years ago. I also felt a giddiness to watch my brother on that stage, without Scott on my lap! They were up there together, this time!​

Grateful

So this May, I feel grateful for so many things. Grateful that I am here, since it was exactly a year ago today, that I went in for a biopsy. May 2016 was not my favorite May, but I think it helped make this one my best. I believe I'm more able to feel gratitude. I feel more thankful than ever before, for family near and far. And I've learned that it's okay to feel proud of your kids, your spouse, your family or yourself!

I just like choosing what I look back on. I'm ridiculously sentimental. I record things, I keep things, I ponder the past... when it's good stuff.

I love old photos, like this one. It takes me back to our old Tulsa neighborhood, 20 years ago.

This photo of happy kids, was actually taken the day we put the For Sale sign in the yard. I don't have a photo of the day our car pulled away for good. That image would have shown The Hart Family, standing in our driveway, waving good-bye. There wasn't a dry eye in the family that was leaving... or staying.

A Year Ago

I'm happy to remember a year ago, when Don and I stopped in Tulsa and spent a couple hours laughing with our dear friends, the Harts. We hadn't seen each other in years, but only spent a little time focusing on the past. We were too excited to talk about the future. We knew our families would be together soon, celebrating the wedding of Kim and Dan's daughter.

In the Moment

A few weeks after seeing the Harts in Tulsa, I got to enjoy a little time with Mother of the Bride. It was fun to live in the moment and enjoy the beautiful wedding and evening. There was a time or two, when I was happily reminded of the past.. like when our 4 kids laughed together on the dance floor or posed for photos. And luckily I didn't have any special ESP skills or desire to ponder the future, that night. Less than a week later, I got my cancer diagnosis.

Don't Like Looking Back

This photo shows the next time Kim and I saw each other. I don't love looking back on my wig and chemo days. But I don't mind remembering Kim's visit last fall, when she made me laugh and forget that I had another chemo coming up.

Living in the Moment Again

This past week, Don and I joined Kim and Dan in Florida. When they Initially invited us, I took a look at the calendar and thought there was no way we could join them. But in this crazy year, I've reminded myself that waiting for a better time, isn't always the best strategy. We had 4 fabulous days, enjoying whatever the weather brought us... sun, wind or thunderstorm. We enjoyed the moments... as well as a few old stories! ​From Oklahoma to Florida

In this week-old photo, my hair seems to be the only reminder of change. I could ponder all that has happened or changed in the 12 months since we saw Dan and Kim in Tulsa. Instead, I'll focus on the future.

We'll see Dan and Kim in November, at our son's wedding... if not before!

It's not easy to look stylish when your body is covered in layers of sunscreen and sweat. The wind doesn't help either, when it blasts an extra layer of salt and sand onto your sticky skin and hair. But our trip to Mexico wasn't about looking good.

I was more focused on feeling good and it felt incredibly good not having long strands of hair... sticking to my face and neck! Yay!

Taking Advantage of Short Hair!

I had 2 weeks in Mexico to celebrate the fact that I feel so darn good. No hairdryers and no worries. For about the first time in adult life, I dove into pools and the surf whenever I felt like it. Not once did I worry about keeping my hair dry. My showers were fast and I often went to dinner with my wet hair slicked back.

Open Windows

Since this was a non-glam trip for us, Don and I spent many hours in taxis with no air-conditioning and buses with open windows. I felt like a happy pup, with my face to the window, feeling the warm air blast away. I didn't have to fight my own hair whipping into my face. My short, gray curls just did their own little dance on top of my head. It's a new world.

Wind Blown and Happy

The wind did strange things to my hair. Even Don had a new style going, after this boat ride. I still don't know where I'm going with my hair style, but I enjoyed 2 weeks of not caring!

I dread packing. I've had so much practice, but I don't have a good system.

But I refuse to complain. Tomorrow we leave for Mexico. I won't even complain about the 6 am flight. But the biggest thrill is that my packing is a whole lot less complicated now. After years of packing hairdryers and brushes, I am packing a comb. Even better than leaving a hairdryer at home, is leaving behind the wigs, the scarves and chemo caps!

I liked being in my 50s. It seemed so centered. It was right in the middle of life... since I plan to live to 100. 60 has no special flair.

But the number 60 looks pretty cool when it's written out with tiny, sparkle stars.

It also helps ease the pain of a new decade, when you know your daughter has written a special memory on each of those 60 stars, before they were folded!

Half-Time!

I have to find lots of ways to make myself embrace this new age and stage.

I got kind of excited when I realized that Heidi and I have something special going on for the next 6 months! I remember noticing years ago, when Heidi had finally grown to half my height. Now she's a whole lot taller than me but, she is exactly half my age until October.

Funny, I remember when I turned 30 and realized I was half my mom's age! Mom and I didn't exactly celebrate our "half-time" period, but I think Heidi and I should.

Celebrations

A week before my birthday, Heidi visited from Austin for an early celebration. We had sushi one night and played games... and watched a mom/daughter favorite, "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane".

The next day Heidi, Don and I brunched at Brenner's on the Bayou, with a view of their beautiful gardens. It was a lovely day, but I was in my 50s still. How would I feel on the real day, April 9?

Hill Country

I decided we should spend my birthday at the cabin in the Texas Hill Country. It seemed like a good idea, to spend a day or two without TV and Trump news. The bluebonnets were also a lure.

Birthday Greetings from Afar

On my birthday I enjoyed some calls and messages, but I especially loved my singing phone call! Scott and Chali's "Happy Birthday Song" came all the way from Virginia, where they were involved in a wedding. That made me laugh. I was excited to thank them for the gift they'd sent. A tiny donkey pin with abalone saddle! I squealed like a kid with a birthday toy, when I opened it. Scott and Cha know how much I adore donkeys and they know I love tiny things. I've spent this year channeling the stubborn donkey spirit to kick cancer. Now I'll wear my pin and kick this old age stuff!​Parties?

So my Big Day has passed and I enjoyed every bit. I no longer need a party and balloons to make me happy. I have family and friends who are there for me year round. That's what I learned this year. So instead of a lot of party hoopla, I chose a way to celebrate all year and I'm going to do it with the spirit of a 6-year-old!

A New Blog

I'm taking my new age and removing the zero. I don't plan on becoming a 6-year-old for a year. That makes no sense.

Instead, I'm reflecting on who that 6-year-old-Beth was and how she enjoyed the world. I'm starting a new blog to share about the 60 mini celebrations, that I'll enjoy throughout the year.

These celebrations may last just a moment, like eating ice cream with a mechanical ride-on-horse. Or they could last an afternoon, like the day I spent with furry animals! My new blog will once again, force me to have some fun!

Glad to be 60!

A year ago when I celebrated my 59th birthday, I didn't imagine I'd turn 60 with short, gray hair and a cancer fight behind me. But, I can honestly say now, I'm glad to be 60. I live in a good place and in a good time. My cancer was treatable and I have been able to talk about it.

And best of all, look at my vase of 60 stars! There's plenty of room, so Heidi can make me new stars for many, many more years! Time to start making new memories!

Check UpI just got back from my 3 month check up with the oncologist. (Since starting Letrozole meds) I was thrilled to hear my blood work looked great. I even got some hair compliments, since this was the first time I walked in the office, wig-free!

Then I was told to put on a gown. I hate breast exams, especially since it was one such exam that got me on this road, last May. But in truth I was a oddly relieved when I knew I was getting one.

Since JuneAfter diagnosis, but before my lumpectomy, it seemed like everyone in the world was focused on my breasts. It's an odd thing to have so many doctors and nurses handling those "turkeys" as my Great Aunt Margueritte used to call them. After a few weeks the focus changed.

Post SurgeryThen suddenly the focus was on the scores, the tests, the machines, the chemo, the radiation machine. Even if I was examined, my scars were being looked at, or my skin. "What about these lumps!" I asked repeatedly. I was told they would go away... post surgery stuff... not to worry.

Time Goes OnThen after Christmas, I suddenly wasn't seeing doctors on a regular basis. There was no one checking up on me to make sure all was well. For 3 months, I tried to believe the doctors were right about those lumps being okay.

All's Good!So, today I was happy to have a breast exam by the oncologist and to hear the words again, that all was okay. Some of the "lumps" are just tightness due to radiation. It will go away and massage can help.

It was a relief to have a good report today. But I still have more than a month until my diagnostic mammogram. I'm going to be really, really happy to get that one behind me.

This was a volunteer week for me. I always enjoy gathering with my senior groups, laughing around the quilt covered tables. Mary made me laugh more than anyone on Tuesday. She was downright giddy over my hair. She could hardly concentrate on anything else because she... loved my waves and color! Every 5 minutes or so, she stopped and shook her head and oohed and aahed over my hairdo. "I want my hair to do that!"

Mary eventually told me about a man she'd met at a nursing home who had hair just like mine. ​ That just cracked me up. She wasn't in love with my hair. She was in love with a memory. "Well I hope he was handsome." I said. And I'm guessing he was by the way she grinned. Then Mary's story made me think of my dad's wavy hair. He is not in a nursing home, but I'm guessing Mary would think my dad was pretty handsome.

A Second Compliment

Today I volunteered at the assisted living center where my mom moved 12 years ago. I saw Myrna, who used to clean Mom's room, when Mom was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. Myrna and I hadn't seen each other since I'd returned after cancer. She hugged me and smiled at my new hair. "Oh you are looking more and more like your mother!" She smiled so sweetly.Hmmm? That's a thought. My gray hair and wrinkles are aging me... so I look about 80?

But I love sweet Myrna, who was so good to my mom. Those words made me laugh and then smile. I will take that compliment, happily.

Missing Mom

I'm actually happy to know I look like my mom. Her hair was soft and white, in this photo 10 years ago.

I miss having Mom at my Quilt Group gatherings.

Dad's Good Hair

And Dad's always had a good head of hair! It was dark and more wavy when I was a child, but now it looks a bit similar to my white-ish, short hair.

As I said, I don't mind funny compliments if they are from good and sincere people.

And I especially don't mind, when they lead me to thinking about other special people.

Since my last fretful post, I decided it was time for a trim. After 10 salon-free months, I was happy to pay a professional... even if there was hardly anything to cut.

Who's Going to Cut It?

I already knew I wasn't going back to my old hairdresser. I decided that, 10 months ago. This photo shows my hair a few days after it was last cut, but the day I visited my stylist I wasn't smiling. I remember sitting in the salon chair, feeling like I was in a fog. I had just learned I had cancer and my stylist (of 15 years) offered such distracted, phony support, I was confused and hurt. I swore I would never return.

My Barbers?

I could have just gone back to my good barbers! Don was wonderful with my initial hair shaving and a few good trims. But he is not a pro. My buddy, A.D. from Richmond Barber Shop shaved my head last October with such warmth and patience. But now I need someone who can work with me to find flattering short cuts... for women.

My Wig Trimmer

During my wig days, I was lucky to find a stylist who was talented in wig trimming and apparently had skills for post chemo hair. But in November, after an odd wig trimming experience, I swore I would never return to her. (Blog #115 )Maybe I've been overly sensitive these past months. But I've also learned, life is too short to settle for service or people who don't treat you well. There are lots of good people out there. But where are they?

The Search

I hoped to find a stylist who could help me grow my hair out gracefully AND deal with my tricky hair... with its varied textures, lengths and colors. I called up support groups and Googled for local stylists. But I came up with nothing.

I got a couple salon suggestions from friends, but one stylist wouldn't call me back and another said she wasn't taking new clients. I sulked.

Then I got on Facebook and felt worse. I allowed myself to look at the FB page of a friend who died of breast cancer a few years ago. I looked at her photos, as if she could offer me support with her brave smile. But it made me sad to see her. It was a little scary too, to see a little of me in her photos... smiling with her bald head or new hair growth. I had to stop looking.

My Appointment

Iended up contacting my friend Cheryl, who happens to have very cute short hair. I got an appointment with her stylist and felt a little silly when I said, "I'm not even sure what you can cut!"But suddenly Christina was shampooing my hair and we were laughing and chatting. Once I was seated in front of the mirror, she put all her focus on me. She was sort of delighted with my finger waves and my little swirls here and there. She went after my longer, white hairs that stick out oddly. And she seemed to understand my chemo curls. I felt safe.

She understood I wanted to grow my hair longer, but she helped me feel confident about what I have on my head now. "I don't know... your eyes really stand out with your short hair!" And she seemed sincere.

A Difference?

There wasn't a ton of my hair on the floor when Christina finished, but I felt like a huge weight had lifted. Most people probably wouldn't see much difference, but I felt like a new person when I left. I just felt less sloppy after things had been trimmed and evened up. Mostly, I felt relieved to know I now have someone I think I can trust in the months ahead, to face this hair growth thing. That is, if I decide to grow it!

​The hair is bad. Every morning I look in the mirror and I have to be reminded of this stupid cancer thing, that brought on my bad hair.

Yes, I appreciate not being bald, but my hair needs to be scolded for misbehaving. It is being rude and bothersome.

No Big Deal

My son has had everything from buzz cuts, to what I call, Fabio-hair. He's had a lot more experience than I have, when it comes to going from short to long. I don't remember Scott having issues. It just grew out. But of course, he's never had to deal with tricky, damaged hair follicles.

Missing My Pixie

I can't believe I'm longing for the hair I had 6 weeks ago. I miss that tame little pixie that was growing in so neatly...

... before the chemo curls invaded.

Chemo curls. I didn't make that up. I don't like that name. I will call them my little shrew curls. I need to work on the taming of my shrew curls, before I start looking like Little Orphan Annie.

Finger WavesThe waves moved in about a month ago. Now, when I reach up and feel the top of my head, it feels totally foreign. There's a spongy, springy, bouncy feel. Honestly, it does sort of amuse me when I give it a little pat.

But the finger wave fashion is just not something I feel I can pull off. Maybe if my hair weren't gray. Maybe if I wore a slinky dress with fringe. Or maybe if I took up smoking, I could look cool, with finger waves.

Bed Head

My mixture of curly and straight hair, gives me the just-rolled-out-of-bed-look... at all times. There are looping curls rolling down my neck and a Dennis the Menace sprout, that I've been trying to tame. Do I really start cutting the hair that I've waited so long to have?

Buddy System

This would all be much easier if I had a friend who shared my post chemo issues. That's what I get for being super independent and not seeking out support groups or exchanging numbers with people I met in waiting rooms. I'm on my own now.

It's a bad comparison, but these past 9 months have kind of been like pregnancy. Like most, I faced my first pregnancy with lots of questions and worries, but I was lucky to have a friend to share "bad hair days" and "big belly days" with. Patti paved the way for me and we both were rewarded with sweet baby girls.

The buddy system helped 30 years ago and I I could use it now... even without the fun reward at the end.

Hair Advice

So, like many people with out buddies, I turned to the internet. It was not a bit helpful.

I found lots of tips on bows and barrettes. I'm sorry. I'm turning 60 in a week. I am not going to start wearing bows and flowers in my hair.

Shopping Therapy

I'm typically not the kind of person who goes shopping when I'm down in the dumps... unless it's antique, junk or thrift shopping.

So that's what Don and I did last weekend and it did the trick. We did not purchase any baby heads, but we laughed a lot.

Distraction

Shopping helped! Don found a ridiculously fun instrument that he insisted I needed. It amused me to no end. I found some nifty, clip-on ties for $2.50 each, which we wore on an evening hike. The rubber boots seemed to complete the outfit.

So I found out that I do like bows, just not hair bows. These (along with my hat) take the focus right off my hair! Time to think about other things!

Getting Started​Actually once I talk myself into cleaning, I don't mind.

In fact, one summer When I was 16, I asked my parents if they would pay me to be "maid" once a week. I worked from 8 to 5, cleaning the entire house for our family of 6 for $15.00. I complained in my diary, but also noted... "I don't mind having a long period of time by myself. There's no brainwork involved, so I have a lot of time to think." I still sort of feel that way.

Cleaning Today

It seems like I've spent more time in my house in the last 10 months, than I have in 10 years. It's given me time to become annoyed by the junk and to attempt to do something about it. Even back in chemo months, I plodded away at small projects.

But it's the bigger spaces that I've recently dug into. The garage! Do we need 5 basket balls? It felt good to get started. I was reminded of days as a kid, when my dad would get on a cleaning streak and the whole family went to work in the garage or yard. Cleaning in a group, is a whole different thing. I miss that.

Did I Finish?

I've made progress, but the garage is not done. That's because I have things like bottle cap collections that need to be played with. (I wasted a lot of time!) I like to give myself an excuse for hoarding, since I used bottle caps with my Kindergarten class for math and science games. That was 35 years ago.

Cleaning the Cabin

I plunged in for a totally different kind of cleaning at our cabin in the Texas Hill Country. We don't have clutter there... just cobwebs and dust. It's exhausting work with ladders and long tools. (I broke my mega tool!) I sort of like this kind of cleaning, with no big decisions.

Closet Decisions

Back at home in Sugar Land, I faced my closet. I've dabbled at closet cleaning for months, but I suddenly realized I had been totally ignoring certain things. Scarves, hats, cancer related books and magazines.

My hair is actually so crazy these days that I should be hiding under a scarf or hat, but I refuse to wear the things that remind me of my chemo days. So now I'm figuring out where to donate my cancer-themed stuff.

The Wig

Funny how I stopped noticing the face staring at me in my closet. But, it was time to make a decision. Why not just donate the wig to someone who might put it to good use? What was holding me back? I guess there is a tiny part of me that has to acknowledge the fact I could someday face this stuff all over again... But wouldn't I deserve a new wig for my trouble? It's a weird thought to be confronted with, when you're busy cleaning. I didn't like the the pondering. It made me uncomfortable.

So I closed the wig up inside its box and put it on a high shelf, out of view. I hoped to avoid the same bad luck that happens when you leave your umbrella at home... causing it to rain.

Ms. Donkey had another job last week. After being bored for a few months, I took her to the out patient surgery center. After all, my little mascot helped me kick cancer's bootie quite well. At least I think so.

My Support Team

This time I didn't walk in and chuckle with staff and pose my donkey with doctors. I was way too grumpy from pain. It's lucky I had surgery planned or I might have ended up paying a bill for ER.

I didn't have it in me to play my "I'm so happy to be a patient" role. I usually do that pretty well.

So there was no joking with nurses. I was not chatty. When the nurse said the doctor was running late, I begged to please be given that pre-surgery cocktail a little early. I wasn't kidding. I didn't have my usual humor, but I did have Don. Poor guy was once again thrown into the role of caregiver. I laid on my "bed" waiting to be wheeled away and tried to appreciate that. I took my old donkey from the bag and had my cheering duo pose for me.

What was that surgery anyway?

I mentioned a cancelled surgery in a December blog. I had to cancel that surgery when my insurance wouldn't cover the surgery center. I put it off until symptoms wouldn't allow.

I got the okay, this time around and psyched myself up. I cleared my calendar, which was frustrating since I'd finally gotten back to a volunteer schedule. I told family and a few friends, but this was not a status to be announced on Facebook. I have already reached the maximum number of prayers you can ask for on Facebook. Plus who wants to read, "Send prayers, Y'all! I'm having hemorrhoid surgery today!" Yep, that's the unspeakable subject, that I swore I wouldn't blog about.

RecoveryThis little surgery was not related to my cancer, but it has delayed my "Done with it & ready to move on!" phase.

I'm on day 10 of a 2-4 week recovery. I knew what I was getting into and luckily things have gone a lot better than the post-op horror stories I've read about on the internet. I haven't had any agonizing trips to ER and I haven't screamed so loud that I worried my neighbors. I think I should thank my doctor for prescribing the right drugs and I should thank myself for being a good patient and doing my job. I've taken 4 baths a day and stayed on a strict diet that includes none of my comfort foods. No dairy means no cheese and ice cream! No wine and no coffee! And in order to let my drugs do their work, I've put up with many days of wooziness. I've staggered like a drunk woman. I've gotten carsick trying to read and I've seen double on TV. But that has passed.

Best of all, my handler/nurse (Don) has taken care of me. He made me a nifty pill chart so I wouldn't get mixed up in my wooziness. Initially, he served me soups while I sat on ice packs. He left me alone and worked on taxes when I was sleepy or grumpy. And now I'm still on drugs and limited food a short while longer, but my humor is back and I'm able to read and relax enjoy being a hermit a while longer.

Hermit LifeNow that I'm not foggy and horribly uncomfortable, I'm able to ponder this odd recovery period. (Google it because I'm not wasting space) I wouldn't wish the first week on anyone, but the second week has allowed me to enjoy my secret passion... being a hermit. Even during 8 months of cancer treatment, I didn't allow myself the luxury of being this much of a hermit. Having an embarrassing health has meant less support, but also freedom from make up and hair worries!

Good Timing

In fact, the timing of this has been perfect. I have had some very creepy-curly hair growth in the past weeks. I plan on wearing hats for a very long while.

Actually, I'm no longer feeling numb toes, but I was two months ago. I was surprised when the neuropathy from chemo actually returned after radiation. It wasn't bad, but it was a reminder that I had recently dealt with cancer. I hate being reminded of that. But the other day I had to be reminded that the neuropathy is gone!

Chinese Foot Massage

When you live in Houston, you have over 100 options for foot massage spas. I checked out the reviews and picked this place in Houston's huge Asian neighborhood. Maybe this photo looks a little eerie, but I was a lot more comfortable stepping into this room with 8 lounge chairs, than I was entering a Chinese Foot Parlor in China a few years ago.

​Helps to Have a Friend

A lot of girlfriends do pedicures together, but it's hard to find a friend who wants to go on a mysterious foot parlor adventure with you. Luckily my friend Milissa was visiting from Chicago and she was pretty darn game. In this photo, we were ready to go, with feet in tubs, dark lights and traditional music wafting through the room. I'm glad I found the nerve to ask my foot therapist (in whisper) if she would take our photo.

Ready for Surgery

I may look like I'm ready to go under the knife, but I must tell you, that sheet covered recliner was pretty darn comfy compared to all the medical tables and beds I've experienced this past year. Also, I am wearing clothes. I was wearing a pinkish shirt and rolled up sweat pants under that sheet. Speaking of pink... what about those pink walls? I sure hope we didn't disturb the two getting their foot massages across from us.

The Bucket

I need to mention that the 1-hour foot massage was only $20.00. I also need to mention that our 1-hour foot massage was not just feet. First my feet were put into a wooden bucket of not-quite-scalding water. Then magical hands went to my head and pressed on my forehead and wiggled my ears and massaged my scalp. After my shoulders, I felt the hands return to my feet for good period of time. Luckily a towel was placed over my face, or I would have looked at Milissa and laughed... especially when my therapist burped.

I Forgot

So my point about neuropathy is, that I didn't think about my numb feet once. It was only after I got home that I grinned over the fact I had enjoyed a wonderful foot rub without once thinking whether my toes were numb or not.

What a heavenly treat, that my feet were totally able to enjoy. I just wish I'd viewed the foot chart on the window first. I could have had all sorts of interesting things cured!

Hair

​Okay, I did remember my cancer twice during the hour. The first time was when the therapist went to work massaging my head. "Oh yay!" I silently cheered, when I realized my head was no longer sore. 2 weeks ago, my head began to mysteriously ache, just as my hair began to suddenly grow curly! (I try to plaster it down now) My head only recently stopped being super sensitive. I'm so glad I didn't have to sit up and shout, "STOP!" to that pleasant head massage.

Milissa's Hair

Ihad to laugh at Milissa's hair when we finished. My hair of course showed no change. No, Milissa didn't get her hair messed up from a foot rub. Our foot massage also included a 20 minute back and leg massage in a private room. It can be a little spooky when you don't know that's included and the therapist quietly ushers you to a back room and tells you to lie down. But we had the buddy system going and tried not to laugh on our side-by-side massage tables.

When our therapists finished whacking and chopping our clothed bodies, we grinned and tiptoed back through the foot room. We tipped well and left happy.

Shopping

Shopping is another thing girlfriends like to do together. So Milissa and I added a little shopping to our outing. We bought this Jack Fruit at a nearby Asian supermarket and took it home to complete our outing!

This foot/shopping adventure reminded me to be appreciative of a number of things. I no longer have achy feet or scalp. I have short hair that handles massage abuse. And I have an amazing friend who was up for a not so traditional girlfriend outing!

This is the change in 5 weeks. I'd be fine with the curls, if their growth was more predictable. It really is getting a little wilder every day.

Mullet?

My waves in front are all in control. Something about wavy, gray hair makes me think of a businessman. Maybe that's my concern. "Business in the front and Party in the back!" That's the description of a mullet. I need to find a stylist pretty darn soon!

Family Hair

I'm not sure where my hair is headed, but I wonder if I'll start looking more like my baby brother... who now has distinguished white hair. (he has reprimanded me for knocking gray/white hair!) But my thick waves are also starting to remind me of my Dad's hair, which is spotlighted in the drawing of my family in 1969. Hmmm, now I'm realizing I did have sort of curly hair once. Maybe I should grow it long and hide behind it, like I did at age 11!

Inspired by Grandma Meyer

It will be a while before my hair is long enough to help me hide. I need to think of styles I may be able to achieve soon.

My pondering got me thinking about my Dad's mom. I adore this photo of my grandmother. She was quite the flapper in her day and I'm starting to love her hair more and more!

I hate taking anything for anything. But I'm supposed to be on Letrozole for 5 years. This hormone blocking drug will lower my chances of cancer recurrence, so I guess I should.

But on January 2, (20 days after starting the medication) my stomach started getting wacky. Sheesh! 5 years of this?

Well, I took a 2 week break from Letrozole and my stomach is still a little crazy. So we can rule that out.

What Else? I have done lab work, so I can rule out all sorts of things. But maybe I've got some lingering issues from chemo or radiation. Or maybe I've suddenly become lactose intolerant. No! Don't take my cheese! Or maybe it's the Biotin I've been taking for hair growth for months! Pretty darn sure that's not it.

The PositiveI always end on a positive note, so I will mention that my Biotin vitamins are really working! Actually, I have no idea if it's helping hair or lashes. They were going to come back anyway. But for the first time ever, I have fingernails that go snappity snap on my keyboard. This is fun. I feel so grown up with my lady nails!

It's an exciting thing when you decide to change your image, with a new hairstyle. But it's a whole different thing when your "new hair-do" is not by choice. I didn't decide to have my current short hair. I haven't even had a real haircut yet. But at least I can choose how I want to... pull it off!

At First

Yes of course, I'm the same person no matter what my hairstyle. But I do feel different in short hair. Initially, when I stepped out without a wig, I felt like my hair announced, "I've been dealing with cancer!" That was not the image I was eager to portray.

Dressing Up...

When my hair grew just a little more, I began to feel like I didn't stand out so much. I was suddenly able to enjoy the ease of short hair. It was a breeze getting ready to go out. But a couple times when I needed to "dress up" to go out, it just felt odd. How was I supposed to look dressed up, with my little boy hair? Pearls maybe?

Options

So, I've begun to realize I should take advantage of this period, to experiment with image changes. After all image doesn't really matter right now. I don't care what friends and family think. They know me. I don't have to worry about first impressions, because I'm not job hunting or in search of a mate. So if this new hair can kind of change my image, why not have a little fun with my forced change? What kind of statement does my short hair make? What are my options? Who do I want to be?

Hollywood Glam?A nice thought...

A few friends have boosted my confidence with reminders of fantastic looking celebrities with darling short haircuts. I had some fun looking at photos. Now, if I could just have their young complexions and million dollar smiles and bodies and wardrobes to help me pull off the pixie hair. That would take a lot of money and a time machine.

Younger or Older?

I've been told by a couple people that my short hair makes me look younger. I was also told my hair makes me look more serious. Does that mean older? Sometimes my pixie cut actually makes me feel like a little kid, ready to go climb trees and skin some knees. But, sometimes I feel like a nun or a rigid schoolmarm. I'll be able to pull off the Scout look in another month or two. If my gray/white hairs start taking over, I'll be able to look like Harper Lee. Neither look, is top on my list.

Old Hollywood

I began to wonder about the film and TV stars from long ago. Maybe those retro 1950's fashions would be more achievable.

After all, June Clever and Doris Day were soooo old, when I used to watch them on TV. But, what happened? Now I'm way older than the "old stars".

Luckily my hair's too short anyway, because I don't think I'm up for any of those hair-dos.

Sexy?

I was told by one person that my new hair made me look sexy. I'm afraid this dear friend is in her late 80's and she had a teasing grin when she paid the compliment. I don't think I'll be working on my sexy image, right now. But how about energetic or theatrical? Mary Martin and Julie Andrews had a lot of spunk when they flew and sang and danced. Maybe I need to get back to dance classes, again. It's only been 40 years.

An Artist?

A stranger actually complimented my hair. He said it made me look like an artist. Now that could be a fun image to go for. I do own a couple of berets!

​Some Friend Guidance

I'm not really going to suddenly fake being an artist, but that comment made me stop and think. My dear friend Lorie, happens to be an artist. She was rocking my same hair-do, 12 years ago when we had a brief reunion in Michigan.

I remember being delighted by her bold style. She pulled it off beautifully with her huge smile and classy/atsty clothing.

Lorie and I have never stopped communicating since our high school days. She's been on my mind lately, especially since she recently gave me some hair tips. Funny, I never would have had the nerve to cut my hair so short, like Lorie. But I have this great chance to try it out! How often do we get a little push to "change our image"? Yes, I can have fun and let this hair push me to wear new things... change it up a bit... even go so far to be inspired to try something new like painting or dancing. But mostly, I need to just be inspired by Lorie, to wear it like I chose it! I'm going to own this hair... at least for now!

Okay, I've been a good sport about the short and I haven't even griped much about the gray. But theses sudden waves appeared out of no where and I predict, a storm is a-coming!

There's nothing wrong with wavy hair, but I can see things are starting to sprout and bend and twist in odd ways. This photo from a week ago shows some fairly calm waves, but I now have an excited bunch of hairs towards the back. They are teaming up together to create an Alflafa look that I'm not fond of. There are also some amusing little flips here and there around my neck. I have no idea how to go about growing this hair longer.

Alfalfa

When my hair gets as long as this little actor's, I may need to slick it down the way he did. But I feel certain my hair sprout will be just as stubborn as his!

Ouch!

The oddest thing about this last week is that I'm experiencing growing pains! My scalp actually aches as if the hairs are growing in at such angles that my hair follicles are stressed. My tennis cap is uncomfortable. My pillow is no longer soft enough. I don't enjoy running my fingers through my crew cut anymore.

NotSoHappy List​I can't make it through this cancer thing without venting. So, I'll throw out the things that I'm not happy about. But since I'm basically a positive person, I might add a few "but at leasts..."

UPDATE: It's October 2017. It's been a year since I've completed chemo. My life is not focused on cancer, but I have continued blogging. Cancer will always be a part of my life, but luckily my complaints and concerns are few. I do still have a little fun, venting!